


Two Steps Back

by HarveyDangerfield, LondonQueen001



Series: Pressed Flowers [6]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Arson, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Law Enforcement, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 03:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12448356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonQueen001/pseuds/LondonQueen001
Summary: All of Ernest's bad behavior finally catches up with him, and he gets in real, significant trouble this time.





	Two Steps Back

**Author's Note:**

> wow we're doing a lot of heavy chapters in a row, sorry guys! bear with us though, this series will eventually culminate in a happy ending, there's just a lot of shit to wade through before then

After the incident with Lucien, Hugo couldn’t help feeling like he and Ernest had taken on huge step forward in overcoming the divide between them, but it was unfortunately immediately followed by two steps back. After everything that happened, it had seemed like Ernest was ready to be open and honest about what was going on in his head. He had been emotional, even vulnerable, in admitting how he was feeling and what led them to that point.

  
  
It seemed like a breakthrough. And while he was still angry and wouldn’t say much more, Hugo had honestly thought they would make progress. He’d gotten Ernest into therapy and anger management, hoping that now he would realize his actions had consequences and might be willing to take steps to work through his problems. He’d already lost his best friend, surely he would see the severity of the situation now.

  
  
Oh how wrong he’d been.

  
  
In the weeks that followed Ernest’s neck brace being removed by his doctor, he seemed to not only go back to his destructive ways, but also he upped the ante. While he kept most of it away from school, thank goodness, it was clear to everyone around the cul-de-sac that Ernest was on something of a rampage. His ire was focused mostly on Hugo but that didn’t make things any better.

  
  
Two weeks before Halloween Hugo came outside on Friday morning to find several swear words keyed into the side of his car. After having his bushes destroyed one by one, two of his favorite figurines melted into plastic blobs, and the obscene phone calls he knew Ernest had been making, he didn’t have the energy to do more than sigh as he loaded Ernest into the car and drove him to his father’s house. Another already unpleasant activity that had only increased in stress since the incident with Lucien. Luckily Victor didn’t say a word this time and Hugo was able to leave quickly and make his way straight to Damien’s home.

  
  
Damien has blessedly either managed to remain completely ignorant to Ernest’s mounting misbehavior, or he simply decides to let Hugo leave it at the door whenever he comes over. Damien’s home is a blissful void of stress, Hugo always feels like he leaves twenty pounds of stress by the door to pick up on his way back out. Damien’s always putting together something nice in the kitchen, his home is always smelling sweet thanks to the fresh cut floral arrangements in every room, and even Lucien is polite whenever he visits lately.

  
  
Swept up in Damien’s arms, his face nestled in the perfumed silk of his blouse, for a few hours a week he feels like nothing could go wrong. He feels a warm twinge in his heart every time Lucien greets him as ‘Hugo’ in the same way it feels whenever Ernest calls him dad, and starts up a bittersweet ache in his chest as he realizes that by now, he might actually be closer to Damien’s son than his own.

  
  
“Hey Hugo,” Lucien greets from the parlor to the left of the entryway as the teacher hangs up his coat, seated sideways over an armchair with a DS in his hand. “Dad’s in the garden. I’d bring a poncho if I were you, he’s misting.”

  
  
"Thank you Lucien." He says as he passes. He does indeed retrieve a poncho from the hall closet, having made the mistake of being caught in Damien's misting one too many times not to take precautions by now. He briefly considers asking Lucien to take keys to his car again and try to turn the current vandalism into something less obscene but decided to let it go for the moment, making his way to the garden instead.

  
  
He stops a few yards from where Damien is working, standing on the path to watch him. There's a certain serenity to it, Hugo has found, even if he rarely joins in the gardening himself. Damien is fully engrossed in his work and looks so pleasantly content and beautiful that Hugo feels like he could sit among the flowers and simply watch him for hours, trying to soak up some of that simple joy for himself.

  
  
Of course today there's more to see in the garden than usual so instead of simply watching Hugo looks around, admiring the Halloween decorations that have begun to work their way into the rows of flowers.

  
  
One thing he has known about Damien for years, but has the pleasure of taking part in personally this year, is the man’s manic, verging on unhealthy obsession with Halloween. He begins preparing more than a month in advance, decorating his home and yard in a way that is somehow simultaneously overbearing, and yet tasteful. He transforms his home over the course of October into a sight to behold, with motion-activated decorations, artfully carved pumpkins wending the front walkway to his stoop, cobwebs draped from every tree, paper lanterns and strings of colorful paper cutouts lighting up every rose bush and window, and more.

  
  
Pausing in his work for a moment, Damien drapes the dripping hose over his arm and adjusts his sunhat. Finally catching sight of Hugo, he sets the hose over a bench and floats over to him for a crinkly, plastic-coated embrace.

  
  
“Good afternoon, my love,” he says, standing up on tiptoes to cup Hugo’s face in gloved hands, and gives him a kiss. “Pardon me for saying so, but you look absolutely exhausted. Is everything alright?”

  
  
Hugo leans into the touch, basking in the warmth of Damien's gentle hands cupping his cheeks, even with the uncomfortable gardening gloves acting as a barrier between them. This is what he needs, always. This sweet gentle man to chase away all his worries with nothing more than a few sweet words and a tender embrace.

  
  
"Ernest," He says with a sigh. "Keyed my car this morning. I'll have to go get the paint job touched up tomorrow. It's good to see you, love. I've missed you."

  
  
It's only been a few days since they had dinner together but with the mounting stress at home even a few days feels too long to be away from Damien these days.

  
  
Damien’s expression falls, and he clucks, smoothing his hand over Hugo’s poncho. “That’s too bad...” he says, in lieu of anything actually helpful. He’s still not sure if it’s actually appropriate for him to give parenting advice, they’re only technically dating, even if they have known each other for years.

  
  
So instead, he just does what he can to help lift Hugo’s spirits whenever he’s around. He puts him to work in the garden for a few minutes, misting the last few rows of flowers while he prunes the bushes near the house, and then they roll up their sleeves and carve the last few pumpkins remaining, to add to the small army of jack o’lanterns already littering his front lawn. Lucien even comes in for a few minutes to help them out by drawing a pattern on one, and for a moment, Hugo feels like part of a real family again. What he wouldn’t give to carve a pumpkin with Ernest...

  
  
After pumpkins is dinner prep and while it’s cooking, they curl up on a couch together side by side under one blanket to read separate books, with Damien’s head on Hugo’s shoulder. Lucien doesn’t eat dinner with them, he just takes his food up to his room, but it’s still a nicer family evening than Hugo has had in a very long time.

  
  
Ernest and Lucien are still in the midst of their six week suspension, though that will be coming to an end shortly, and with Ernest at his father’s house, it doesn’t take very much convincing at all for Damien to sweet talk Hugo into staying the night. Curled up in his bed together with his head pillowed on Hugo’s shoulder, Damien trails his fingers through his chest hair idly, lost in thought.

  
  
“What do you think is going to happen with Ernest?” he asks, breaking the silence after several minutes of quiet cuddling. “I don’t mean to pry, if I’m out of line please let me know. But... I worry.”

  
  
Hugo sighs and wraps his arms around Damien. He doesn't really want to think about this now, when the evening has been so nice, but it's not as if his son is ever far from his mind. And being a parent himself, Damien understands his worries and fears. Maybe it will help to talk it out with someone with a little more distance.

  
  
"I don't know. I've come close to having nightmares of him getting himself arrested or worse. I've considered drastic measures like sending him to military school. Not that I could ever really send him away. He might act out but he's my son and I'd miss him too much and worry constantly." He admits. "I keep hoping something will flip a switch for him, that there will finally be something that makes him realize he can't go on like this. Or he'll come to realize I really do love him and want the best for him. But I have no idea what that catalyst would be."

  
  
“I think we should try to avoid catalysts if at all possible,” Damien says, rubbing his hand in a circle over Hugo’s chest. “I would simply say that the candle which burns twice as bright burns half as long, and perhaps it’s just a matter of waiting it out, but... with as physically destructive as he’s been lately, not only with your property but with others, I think that might not be the safest option.”

  
  
He tips his head back to look up at Hugo with a frown. “And Victor is being of no help, I imagine?”

  
  
"Not exactly." He says with a hollow laugh. "I brought up that Ernest melted some of my collection. His response was basically, _what does it matter they're just silly toys._ As if what was destroyed was the issue, not that Ernest has taken to destroying other people's things. But as long as he isn't breaking any of Victor's things it's my problem alone."

  
  
“Is he not?” Damien props up on his elbow to look down at Hugo. “That’s troubling. If he isn’t being destructive at Victor’s home, it could mean one of two things. Either this is a vendetta against you personally... which is damaging emotionally in its own right. Or Victor is somehow supplying him with other avenues for discharging the tension... I don’t want to make judgement calls on him, necessarily, but... you don’t think he could be enabling any potentially dangerous activities, do you?”

  
  
Hugo shakes his head. "Not directly. He fuels his bad attitude but there's no rules at Victor's house. Ernest can play video games and drink nothing but soda and eat popcorn all weekend if he wants. He's a smart boy, he knows not to ruin his weekend paradise by upsetting Victor. And Victor is never to punish him if he isn't directly affected. It's circular. What he does do is fill Ernest's head with negativity about life with me."

  
  
“You haven’t met with him yet about that.” It isn’t a question, because Damien knows he’s going to be involved in that discussion, not only because he wants to be, but because it’s clear that Hugo’s too afraid to meet with Victor alone. Which is also troubling. “I know you’re frightened, my love. But the longer you put that off, I fear, the longer this problem will grow.”

  
  
"I know." He admits. "I have to, I know. But with everything with Ernest right now... I don't know if I can fight a war on two fronts. It's pathetic I know, but I don't know if I can confront both of them and handle the backlash. Even with you there to be my rock."

  
  
“So perhaps one at a time,” Damien suggests. “Maybe you should speak first with Ernest. Try to open up to him? Is Ernest even aware of how badly you have been treated by Victor? I know you said you never speak ill of Victor around Ernest, a favor which has not been paid back in kind. Could it be that Ernest simply has no idea? I know you don’t want to spread ire, but in this case, it could be Ernest’s lack of information that has formed this unfair and inaccurate bias. If you can’t stop Victor from talking about you... it may be time to talk about him. In a more professional, less harmful way, of course.”

  
  
"I tried once. Ernest insisted I was trying to turn him against his father." Hugo says. But the idea has merit, if he can talk to him when he's less emotionally keyed up. "I can certainly try. It's a talk we should have I suppose. He should know that his father isn't the hero he portrays himself as and that there's two sides to every story."

  
  
“He should,” Damien agrees, leaning out over Hugo to give his jaw a kiss, and then his neck. “But not right now,” he murmurs, kisses trailing down his neck to his chest, and in a straight line down his stomach. “I think right now, you should let me take your mind off it.”

  
  
And Damien does so, as always, in _spectacular_ fashion.

  
  
Halloween is fast coming this weekend, and so with Damien’s suggestion, Hugo decides to wait until afterwards to have the Big Talk with his son. Due to Lucien’s honestly wonderful behavior over the last few weeks, Damien had chosen to lift his ban on Lucien leaving the house alone for Halloween night, giving him free reign to spend the night with his friends, and permission to stay the night wherever he chooses, as long as he’s home by noon on Saturday.

  
  
Hugo... isn’t feeling as confident, with Ernest. Halloween night has a way of bringing out the worst in a lot of young pranksters, and with Ernest’s destructive streak burning so much hotter recently, the idea of letting him roam unsupervised puts a bad taste at the back of his throat. So when Ernest requests to just spend Halloween at Victor’s place so they can watch horror movies that Hugo is too squeamish to allow in his own house, it seems like a very simple solution to an otherwise complicated problem that he had no answers for.

  
  
Plus, this way, Damien is able to recruit him to help staff the haunted maze he always turns his home into for young trick or treaters, starting at the front door, winding through his cellar and ending in the garden for caramel apples and treat bags. Damien takes Halloween _very_ seriously.

  
  
"Perhaps next year you could ask Lucien and his friends to staff the maze." Hugo suggests while Damien helps him put together his costume. Damien has been very particular about Hugo's attire for the evening, going to far as to tailor some store bought items for him so they fit perfectly. "And we can throw a party for some of the adults in the neighborhood."

  
  
Maybe it's being too hopeful, making plans a year in advance but there's almost no doubt in Hugo's mind that he and Damien will be just as blissfully happy together this time next year.

  
  
"And by then maybe Ernest will be willing to get involved too." He adds. He's still a little nervous about Ernest being away on Halloween night but he's trying his best to be optimistic right now.

  
  
“That’s a marvelous idea!” Damien says excitedly, orbiting Hugo’s body and making little last-minute adjustments to his costume for tomorrow. “Perhaps Joseph would be willing to help me, I know how much he enjoys putting together a good mixer. He may know of a place we could rent for an evening of merrymaking.”

  
  
He stops in front of Hugo, adjusting and then smoothing out his bow tie, and smiles up at him. For a moment he just maintains eye contact with a dreamy expression before saying, “When is the last time I told you how _devastatingly_ handsome you are?”

  
  
"About an ago when you told me to undress and start putting this on I think." Hugo says, smiling. He reaches out and grabs Damien by the hips, pulling him in for a kiss. "But I don't mind hearing it again if you don't mind me telling you how stunningly gorgeous you are."

  
  
“You won’t be saying that when I have my half of the costume on,” Damien grins, returning the kiss, mostly teeth.

  
  
It had been his idea to go as both halves of the Dorian Grey story, Hugo representing the young and vital Dorian, while he dressed as the withered, spooky old painting. It might be a niche costume, and they might have to spend the whole evening explaining what they’re dressed as, but it suits them so perfectly, combining their interests into one flawless category. Hugo had argued that he should be the painting because he’s already older and more tired looking, but Damien had shushed him right up, insisting that he wanted to be the spooky one. Mostly he just wanted another excuse to dress Hugo up in proper, fitted victorian attire.

  
  
“Everything is set up for Ernest tomorrow, yes?” he asks, smoothing his hands over Hugo’s lapels. “I know how anxious you are.”

  
  
Hugo nods, refusing to let go of Damien just yet. He didn't think he would ever quite get over just how right it feels to hold him, how his big hands almost seem to envelope his slim body. It feels nice to have him so close and know that Damien doesn't mind his general largeness.

  
  
"Yeah it's all set. He'll go over to Victor's in the morning and spend the night there. Maybe just stay through the weekend, there's not much sense in him coming home for just a day or two when he doesn't have school. And maybe if he makes himself sick eating nothing but junk food for days he'll realize rules exist for a reason."

  
  
They laugh, but there’s always an underlying sadness to Hugo’s jokes like that. They dress him back in his normal clothes and spend the rest of the evening putting the final finishing touches on the haunted maze through his home. Damien gives Lucien permission to go into town for one hour to get dinner at the coffee spoon- a thinly veiled excuse to get him out of the house long enough for he and Hugo to make love on the parlor couch.

  
  
Damien’s manic energy the next day is enough to distract Hugo from his mounting worry about Ernest. He’s so nervous that even Victor reassures him that everything’s going to be fine when he drops him off early that morning. When Victor actually assumes some kind of serious parenting role, that’s how Hugo knows things are dire. Reassured by the moment of maturity from Victor, he returns to Maple Bay with a mind for letting go and actually enjoying himself for the evening.

  
  
The costumes Damien put together for them are honestly stunning. Hugo cuts an impressive silhouette in a spectacular black velvet tuxedo with plum and gold accents, complete with top hat and cane, while Damien wears a version of the same suit in shambles, ill-fitted to make him look shrunken and withered, with makeup painted over his face to make him resemble a watercolor painting of an old, old man. Dust is painted over his clothing, tears artfully applied all over his sleeves and a cardboard square painted as an ornate frame to finish off the look. It’s obscure, but they look damn good.

  
  
As expected, most people have to ask who they are when they greet the children in batches of four or five to move through the maze in the lower levels of Damien’s home, while the parents are invited into the parlor for tea and finger sandwiches. But they don’t mind. The mood in the house is one of fun and good-natured spooks.

  
  
The excited shouts and squeals of children and the amused laughter of their parents helps ease Hugo's frayed nerves and after about an hour he gives himself permission to stop worrying and fully enjoy the evening with Damien. The haunted maze has become something of a legend in town, the local paper having run a short article on it a few years ago, but Hugo has never seen it up close before.

  
  
Watching Damien with the kids, seeing him so fully engaged and overjoyed with his work and the joy it brings everyone else has Hugo feeling like he's falling in love with the man all over again. His passion and sheer easygoing fun about it all is infectious and Hugo can't help but throw himself into it as well, going so far as to leave his cell phone in the kitchen instead of anxiously checking it every half hour. Victor should have things handled, he tells himself as he goes to rejoin the others. He can be a parent for one night after all and let Hugo have some fun.

  
  
It’s at around ten pm that everything comes crashing down around his ears.

  
  
The maze has been up and operational for four hours now and it’s starting to wind down. Damien is escorting one last foursome of preteens into the maze when Hugo decides to go check his phone again, and he finds a very distressing string of missed calls and texts that make his stomach go sour.

  
  
A stream of voicemails from Victor, chastising him for his irresponsibility for not answering his phone, blaming some kind of incident with Ernest on him, evidently washing his hands of the situation, accusing Hugo of not caring about what happened, and then dropping the full brunt of it on him before he’s even fully understood what happened.

  
  
One furious phone call with Victor later and Hugo has the full story. Apparently Ernest, part way through the night, had told Victor he changed his mind and wanted to go home. Victor had of course jumped at the chance to not have to do anything when Ernest suggested he would take the bus home, after lying about getting permission from Hugo to come home. And now, evidently, Ernest has been arrested for some kind of property damage, and Victor just let him sit in a holding cell for the last two hours.

  
  
Damien comes into the kitchen to put away a few empty platters in the sink when he finds Hugo, pale-faced and teary-eyed, supporting his weight on the counter and clutching his phone, and his heart immediately sinks.

  
  
"I have- I have to go." He says, trying to catch his breath and get ahold of himself. Ernest arrested. Ernest is in a _holding cell_. "Fuck!" He shouts and if they were at his house he likely would have broken something in sheer frustration.

  
  
He turns to look at Damien and shakes his head. "I knew something would go wrong. It always- I can't have one night. One damn night to enjoy myself." He says. He's so upset he's shaking and he knows he's in no condition to drive. "I hate to drag you into this. But I need a favor, please."

  
  
Of course Damien says yes. Of course he agrees to drive him to the station because he's a saint, and Hugo is more acutely aware than ever how much he doesn't deserve him. He doesn't even ask questions, which Hugo is thankful for. He's not sure how articulate he could be right now. They close up the house after the last trick or treaters are rushed through the maze and given extra candy as an apology and without changing out of their costumes, though they leave the fake picture frame behind, they climb into Damien's car and head out.

  
  
Damien waits patiently in the car with his forehead on the steering wheel for a few minutes before he takes baby wipes from the glove compartment and cleans off his face in the rearview mirror as best he can. He can’t imagine what’s going through Hugo’s head right now, what this will mean for Ernest, what this will mean for their relationship. He’s shaking himself, he can’t even fathom how upset Hugo is.

  
  
When he finally sees Hugo dragging Ernest out of the station, he can see that the boy has a black eye, and looks just as furious as Hugo does. His rage only seems to increase when he sees it’s Damien’s car he’s being dragged towards.

  
  
“What’s HE doing here!?” Ernest demands, yanking his arm away from Hugo as soon as he sees Damien lit up by the dash board lights.

  
  
"HE drove me here because I was so upset if I drove myself I'd probably have crashed and you would still be in holding!" Hugo shouts. He yanks the back door of the car open with more force than necessary. "Now get in, buckle up and if I hear one word out of you before we get home, God help you, you’ll wish I'd let them keep you over night."

  
  
He and Ernest glare at each other for a minute but there's something about Hugo's expression that makes Ernest wilt and climb into the back seat. Hugo slams the door behind him and joins Damien up front, looking somewhere between murderous and like he's about to have a complete break down.

  
  
There’s a tense silence in the car as they drive home, and Damien hasn’t even completely come to a stop in Hugo’s driveway before Ernest is tearing out of the back seat like his ass is on fire, leaving the door open behind him and running inside, slamming the front door behind him.

  
  
Damien looks over at Hugo, a little afraid to break the silence, but he reaches out to put his hand on Hugo’s anyway. “What can I do, love?” he whispers.

  
  
"Bail me out of jail after I kill Victor," He says through tightly clenched teeth. "This is it. This is the last straw, if he doesn't want to be a parent, fine, he doesn't have to be. He just let Ernest go! In the middle of the night with no confirmation that anyone was waiting for him or that he even got on the damn bus!"

  
  
He's close to shouting, just barely keeping himself in check so he doesn't scare Damien because that's the last thing he needs right now.

  
  
"Ernest is going to have to go to court. He's going to be sentenced for this. And Victor and I are going to go to court to rethink our custody agreement," He says, his voice shaking. He opens the door and climbs out of the car, some of the fight going out of him when the cool night air hits his face. "I'm sorry I ruined your Halloween Damien."

  
  
Damien fights with his seat belt for a moment and scrambles out to stop Hugo from letting that be their parting words for the evening, catching him by the hand before he can go inside upset. He spins Hugo around and catches him by the face in both hands.

  
  
“Now you listen to me,” he says softly, rubbing his thumbs under Hugo’s tired, tired eyes. “You didn’t ruin a thing. We had a perfectly marvelous evening, and I wouldn’t choose to be anywhere but right here in Ernest’s and your time of need. I love him, and I love you. And _you_ love _him_. You’re going to go in there tonight, and you’re going to be so brave, and you’re going to love him better than anybody else on this earth loves him.”

  
  
Hugo sags in Damien's arms, the fight going out of him as tears well up in his eyes. "I don't know what to do anymore Damien," He admits softly. "I love him. He's my son and I love him more than anything on this earth but I'm at the end of my rope. I don't know what to do anymore."

  
  
He steals a quick kiss before stepping back out of Damien's grip to wipe his eyes. "I'll call you later, alright? I'll need to talk to you when this is through. Will you wait up?" It's a lot to ask but he needs the reassurance that someone will be there for him.

  
  
“Absolutely,” Damien murmurs. “There’s no chance I could get any sleep tonight anyway, I’ll be sick with worry. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  
  
He waits until Hugo has closed the door behind him before pulling across the street into his own driveway and heading inside to begin the long, anxious wait for the conclusion of the evening.

  
  
Ernest had, of course, locked the front door behind him just to force Hugo to fuss with his keys to let himself in. Just a little bit more insult to injury on top of more insult, on top of more injury. He’s blasting music in his room, something with a lot of curse words, loud enough at this time of night that if they had less understanding neighbors, they could get the police called on them and he could get in trouble with the law twice in one night.

  
  
Hugo goes upstairs and right to Ernest's room, glad he had removed the lock on his door a long time ago. Ernest had pushed as much junk in front of the door as possible to keep it closed but it's no match for Hugo's strength.

  
  
He pushes his way into the room and immediately unplugs Ernest's stereo and begins wrapping up the cord, clearly intent on taking it out of the room.

  
  
“Sure, just take everything I care about, it’s whatever,” Ernest says angrily from his bed, turned over so his back faces his father. “That’s what you always do, anyway.”

  
  
" **YOU SET FIRE TO A BUILDING!** " Hugo bellows in response, making Ernest jump. " **DO YOU HAVE _ANY IDEA-_** _"_

  
  
He stops himself and takes a deep breath. He can't shout all night, as much as he wants to. "You committed arson. Not just petty arson like I'm used to. You can be charged with a felony, Ernest. Have you considered that? Have you considered the consequences of your actions? Because you aren't going to be complaining about me taking away your fucking stereo when the judge decides to send you away until you turn 18."

  
  
It's possible. The scale of the damage Ernest did is enough to have him sent away for a long, long time and saying it aloud is enough to make Hugo feel like his heart is about to stop beating. There's tears in his eyes again and this time he makes no move to wipe them away.

  
  
"And you could have been _hurt_. Lord above, Ernest you could have been _killed_ , did you consider that?" He asks. "I could have _lost_ you, Ernest."

  
  
Ernest whips around, fire in his eyes. “Did you even think to ask me what happened?! No! Of course not! All you ever do is accuse me of shit! All you ever do is yell at me and get angry at me and most of the time you don’t even fucking ask me what happened! I’m sick of it! You don’t _care_ about me, all you care about is having a kid that doesn’t embarrass you! Why don’t you just fucking trade me for Benjamin and get it over with!”

  
  
"Because you are my son, and I love you." Hugo says. He sets the stereo down and goes to Ernest, sitting down on the bed next to him. This is far from the first time Ernest has brought up his biological twin. When his good friend Vanessa who he met in college (and was technically the last girlfriend he ever had) asked him to be a donor for her and her wife, he’d happily agreed. When she discovered she was pregnant with twins, she panicked. She and Bonnie had only planned and budgeted for one baby, and when the subject of adoption came up, Hugo readily stepped in.

  
  
"Benjamin might technically be your brother, but you're the little boy I brought home from the hospital and raised and love with all my heart. I held both of you in the hospital the day you were born, and yes, I love Ben, but when you looked up at me from your little bundle of blankets I knew I could never trade you for anything in the world."

  
  
He sighs and rubs his face. "I want you to think, okay? Really, really think. Have I ever, even once, said or done anything to make you think I'd want Benjamin more than you? And don't think about what Victor has said about it, think about what I've done. And you say I just get angry and yell all the time. Can you think of one time when it wasn't because I was worried about you or you hadn't done something that really deserved it? Do I really always yell about every little thing?"

  
  
“You yell at me _all the time,_ ” Ernest says. “Dad never fucking yells at me, ever, not even when I fuck up. You’re just mean, you’re just _mean_.”

  
  
"Ernest please. You want to bring Victor into this? Alright. When have you ever done anything to get in trouble at his house? Have you set fire to his bushes? Have you broken his plates and tv? Have you keyed his car?" He asks. He's careful to keep his voice steady, asking, not accusing. Ernest needs to think about this and maybe finally see the truth.

  
  
Ernest squirms uncomfortably. “I only do that stuff cause you’re such a jerk all the time!”

  
  
“If I’m a jerk, I’m only a jerk _because_ you do that stuff,” Hugo says, exhausted. “We’re going to have to break this cycle sometime.”

  
  
“Well how come _I_ have to!” Ernest demands. “You’re supposed to be the grown up! How come you have to be a grown up who sucks so much! Dad manages to be cool and fun, how come you can’t be!”  
  
  
"Because it's not parenting to let you do what you want all the time and have no consequences for your actions. It's babysitting. And I love you too much not to push you to be the best person you can be." Hugo says. He shakes his head. "Remember when you were little? Remember how much fun we used to have together, even when Victor wasn't around? Was I so mean and awful then or did I only become so hateful when you started acting out and I couldn't afford to be fun anymore?"

  
  
“Just- shut up!” Ernest clamps his hands down in his hair. “I’m so _tired_ of trying to explain it to you all the time, you just don’t fucking _get it_ , you don’t _understand_ , and you never will cause you don’t even want to fucking try!” there are tears in his eyes now, and he shakes his head. “Things would be so much better if you would just stop trying to ruin our family! Just- why can’t you just be with dad?!”

  
  
Hugo sighs. This isn’t exactly how he’d pictured having this conversation, but he supposes it’s happening now whether he really wants it to or not.

  
  
He scrubs a hand over his face and hangs his head. "Because your father is not always a good man, Ernest." He says softly. He doesn't know how Ernest is going to take this, if it'll just make him seem weak and pathetic in his son's eyes, but it's time to be honest.

  
  
"I never wanted to say anything bad about your father to you. I worked really hard to never put him down when you could hear me, but if you want to know the truth of why I can't be with Victor this is it. Your father hurt me a lot, when we were together. Not physically, he isn't that kind of man. But from the time we dated until I finally ended things he did nothing but cut me down and make me feel very bad about myself."

  
  
He tells Ernest, hoping he's listening, really listening to what he's saying. "Being constantly told that I was foolish or stupid or that the things I care about don't matter for that long left emotional wounds I'm going to be overcoming for a long time. He put me down every chance he could. And I simply couldn't take it any longer. It's not just that he doesn't make me happy, Ernest, but he makes me very, very unhappy. That's why I can't be with him. Do you understand that?"

  
  
He finally works up the courage to look back at Ernest, and he sees him wearing a more vulnerable expression than he’s seen on the boy’s face in a very long time. But as he looks at him, it swiftly turns on a dime into rage.

  
  
“You’re lying,” he says. “You’re fucking lying to me. Dad’s never been anything but awesome for my whole life, you think I’d believe that shit?”

  
  
Hugo sighs and shakes his head. "I can't make you believe it Ernest, but it's the truth. And if you think about it I think you'll realize that. How many times has he called wrestling stupid, for example? How often did he say my movie choices were too low brow for our family movie nights? Just. Think about it. Please, son. That's all I ask."

  
  
“No!” Ernest jumps up off the bed, and starts grabbing at Hugo, trying to physically pull him up off the bed and push him out of the room. “Shut up, shut up! I can’t take it from you too, I can’t fucking handle it! Dad’s always talking shit about you, I can’t take you talking shit about him too! Just _get out of my fucking room!”_

  
  
His voice goes shrill at the end, in a soul-deep pained kind of way that Hugo doesn’t think he’s ever heard out of Ernest before. His sock feet slip on the carpet and he falls to a knee, curling up against the side of his bed and breaking down into the kind of sobbing that Ernest hasn’t allowed his father to see since before he was ten.

  
  
“It can’t be true,” he moans into his knees, hugging them against his chest. “Shut the fuck up, it can’t be true.”

  
  
"Oh Ernest." Hugo says, dropping down onto the floor next to him. Usually he would give his son space, not push him further, but seeing him break down like this makes his chest ache and his eyes brim with tears. Gently he pulls his son to him, hugging him like he used to when he was a small child. "I'm sorry Ernest. I never wanted this to hurt you too. I'm sorry."

  
  
For once, Ernest doesn’t pull away from Hugo. He just sags into his arms and hoarsely scream-sobs into his shoulder. The past few weeks have been so, so immeasurably rough, not only on Hugo, but on Ernest as well. The emotional gauntlet they’ve both been wrung through has left them raw and vulnerable and bleeding.

  
  
“If it’s- true- then he’s- just- been lying- to me- this whole time-” Ernest can’t even get all his words out at once between choking, gasping sobs for air.

  
  
"I'm sorry," Hugo says again, not knowing what else he can say to make things better. He could take it back, say it isn't true, but he won't lie to Ernest like that. So instead he holds his son and gently strokes his hair while he cries, trying to soothe him as best he can.

  
  
Hugo wishes he could say there was some kind of dramatic conclusion to this heartbreaking event in which they both poured their hearts out to each other and came to a new understanding, and walked away with a stronger relationship. But at some point the moment just ended, Ernest pushed Hugo away and climbed back onto the bed, leaving Hugo to lever himself off the floor and just sort of walk down the hall in a daze.

  
  
It’s hard to tell if they actually got anywhere productive in that conversation. Ernest shut him down every time he asked him to analyze the truth, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t take the time to think about it on his own. Ernest has always been surprisingly sensitive and cerebral, Hugo has never had any doubt of that. _Something_ might come of this... it’s just hard to remain optimistic about exactly what.

  
  
With nothing else left to be said Hugo goes to the kitchen to make himself some tea before settling down in his study to call Damien. He needs to hear his voice and be reassured that he did the right thing.

  
  
When Damien answers on the second ring it's enough to make Hugo start crying all over again, in sheer relief that he had actually waited for him like he promised.


End file.
